An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts Book 2) (20 page)

“William,” she whispered in a shocked voice.

“Are you surprised that I desire you? I am too, but I am a normal man with an unfortunate predilection for punishment. I had not foreseen how much of a temptation you could be.” He shrugged. Why not ask for what he wanted? Why not be direct and see if she wanted to know him better too? “I know you did not enjoy being kissed by me, but there are other intimacies that could satisfy us both.”

Her hand rose to her neck to cover the necklace he’d given her on the day they began pretending to be husband and wife. Since then he’d noticed she clung to the piece when in distress. She always chose that necklace if he did not decide on another. “I never said I did not enjoy being kissed,” she whispered.

William took a pace toward her as her eyes dropped demurely. Had he misread her? “You did not say you liked it either.”

“Please. Not so loud.”

Emboldened, he captured her wrist and a soft moan escaped her. “Were you repulsed by the scar?”

She shook her head. “I could feel it at first and then I didn’t notice it.”

“Why did you not tell me that when I asked?” He pinned her to the nearest wall, caging her with his arms. Her gaze rose to his chest and then lifted to reveal her confusion. His pulse took flight as her pupils dilated. He loosened his grip a little.

“I am not used to speaking of such things.” She bit her lip. “I am often so overwhelmed by you that I don’t even know what I want or how to behave.”

“I only want you to be yourself.” He released her hands entirely to brush her cheeks with the back of his fingers. “There is no right and wrong when it comes to pleasure between us.”

Her fingers dug into his chest, holding on to him rather than pushing him away.

“Should I whisper my desires?” He pressed his body against hers. “I want to touch you, Matilda. I want to hear you cry out in pleasure tonight.”

She whimpered but did not seek to leave his arms.

Encouraged, William brought his mouth to hers and kissed her gently. Her lips moved against his, hesitant at first, and then she lifted her arms and twined them about his neck.

He broke the kiss and stared down at her. “Give me tonight. Let me make love to you.”

She gasped. “Our bargain?”

Of course.
For a moment he’d become swept away, blinded by desire and Matilda’s response. “I will keep to our bargain and you will keep your innocence. I promise. Say you want me to touch you.”

She remained silent, drawing out the moment between them until it became clear she wouldn’t agree. As he straightened, intending to draw away from her and the temptation she presented, her fingers twitched on his shirt.

A chaste marriage it was to be, with the occasional discipline.

He nodded and turned away, intending to sleep elsewhere that night.

“Yes, William,” she agreed suddenly. “I would like you to touch me as you did that first time.”

He turned, utterly surprised he had her permission at last. A fiery blush of color consumed her face, and she seemed not to know how to stand still.

He returned to her, brought both hands up, and cupped her hot face. “Sweet Matilda,” he whispered. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

A strange sound escaped her. “I think I might.”

He stared into her eyes as her pupils grew rounder, her breath rushed. “I want to take you over my knee right now,” he whispered.

Her breath caught, undeniable excitement filling her eyes.

He nodded, sensing victory, swept up in the anticipation of pleasuring his wife at last. “But perhaps a few more kisses first?”

He captured her wrist and drew her toward a sturdy chair, and when he sat he pulled her down onto his lap. She balanced with her feet dangling an inch from the floor and a wild expression in her eyes. He caressed her face and then brought her lips to his to taste her again.

He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, until his face ached with the strain. He caressed her waist and held her trembling body still within his grip.

And then when he could wait no longer, when Matilda had begun to squirm in earnest and moan softly at the sweep of his tongue into her mouth, he gently rolled her until she lay prone across his spread thighs, her hip resting against his erection. “Hands touching the floor,” he asked of her.

He took a breath to center himself, to master his desire and devote his energies into her pleasures. He had waited so long for this moment and would not ruin it with undue haste.

He placed one hand at the small of her back, the other on her ankle, and firmly caressed her leg. As he touched her, he moved her gown higher up her limbs until her stockings were exposed; he listened to her rushed breathing and felt the tension rise between them.

He teased the crease of her knee and then her inner thighs. She parted her legs a little, a nervous flinch rather than an invitation, and her head dropped to hang between her outstretched arms.

When he at last pulled her gown beyond her bottom, he was panting and aching too. In all the times he’d been with other women, he’d never felt like this—in control and utterly trusted. He adjusted himself and then slipped the buttons at the fall of his trousers undone enough to ease the pressure.

Her buttocks clenched as he caressed the firm globes of her bottom, and when she relaxed he tapped her, a sweet and sharp strike that made his fingertips tingle. Matilda gasped as expected, a delightful sound that tested his resolve to make tonight a sweet memory for them both.

He brushed his hand over the reddened globe that filled his hand and then squeezed. His wife. She wanted him to punish her and had unwittingly given him a reason earlier. “Three more for not using my name.”

He struck her, smoothed her skin, and then struck again but harder.

A dark moan left Matilda’s mouth.

“You like that.”

She shook as she nodded. “Yes, William.”

William struck her again, hard enough to rock her forward, which was why he’d asked for her hands to be outstretched. He exhaled loudly, his urge to punish satisfied for now, but Matilda required more than pain. And he wanted to please her so badly.

Even though the punishment was over, Matilda remained still, ready for more across his legs. William admired her body, resting one hand possessively on her tender rump. “Sweet Matilda,” he whispered.

He slid his fingers between her legs. She was damp with arousal and sensitive enough that she squirmed against his fingers. He stroked her clitoris lightly. “Does that feel nice?”

“Oh,” Matilda cried out and lifted her head. “Yes.”

He leaned over her. “What more can I do for you? Tell me.”

“More of the same,” she said, her voice tremulous.

“Ask for what you want.” He slapped her left cheek. “More punishment?”

“Yes,” she choked out

She bowed her head as he swirled his fingers over her clitoris again.

“More pleasure?”

“Yes.” She gasped as he slapped her right cheek. “Please.”

“Pleasure and pain require two hands,” he whispered.

“Yes, William.” She was silent a moment, then added, “Please touch me the way you did before.”

Success
.

He employed his left to spank in an inconstant rhythm and his right to toy with her sex. Matilda relished the attention and soon was puffing and gasping out loud. She dangled over his lap but moved restlessly against his fingers in a way that had nothing to do with the beat of his hand against her skin and everything to do with heightened desire. He brought her to her peak swiftly and rejoiced in her strangled cries of ecstasy. When she quieted, he leaned back in his chair and buttoned his fall, wincing at the renewed confinement but satisfied as never before.

He brought her up to hold her in his arms on his lap. She hissed a little as her bottom pressed against his thigh, but the sound was music to his ears.

He set one hand lightly over her bottom and held her close against his chest with his other arm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He turned his lips to her brow, noting the high heat of her skin. In his previous encounters with other women, he’d never encountered such an honest response to his lovemaking. There had been no affection after, or so little he’d not remembered feeling so possessive. “For letting me take care of you like that.”

She turned her face into his shoulder and gripped his shirt tightly. Embarrassed, he thought, by the simple act of giving in to desire.

He should have held her after the first time he’d spanked her, and he cuddled her closer against him now so she would feel safe. He should have shown her how much the moment had meant to him instead of allowing her to run away to hide from what he’d started.

While she caught her breath, he unbuttoned her garments, let down her hair so he could run his fingers through the soft strands. When his erection had subsided enough to pass unnoticed, he stood, placed her gently to her feet, and let her outer garments fall to the floor. The strength of her body, the beauty of her curves, never failed to move him. Her body was his to touch now, to caress, to bring pleasure and pain to.

He was wealthy beyond words.

And happy.

He undressed her, then put her in a prim nightgown and lifted her up into his arms. He carried her to their bed and tucked her in. “Sweet dreams, Matilda.”

He took a pace back.

“Where are you going?”

To bring himself off with his own hand so he wouldn’t embarrass her with an intimacy she wasn’t ready for. “I have something to take care of in my study. Go to sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Fifteen

D
awson held up two waistcoats—one bright and the other dark. “Captain?”

“The bright one,” William decided. It suited his optimistic mood.

He cast a glance at the closed door to his bedchamber. He’d given Matilda time alone that morning to recover from their interlude last night. Her bottom was sure to be tender. “Is my wife awake?”

“She rang the bell for breakfast an hour ago,” Dawson announced in a tone that hinted disapproval. Dawson had been odd since William’s marriage. “She asked what I knew of Lloyd’s demise before your dinner guests arrived last night.”

He moved close to the valet, studying him. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, as you insisted.” Dawson scowled. “But do not forget she is clever. She will figure it out or…”

“Lloyd might seek her out.” He frowned at that idea. “His return will place her happiness at risk.”

“Perhaps she should know what kind of man he was and what happened to the last woman he planned to marry.” Dawson flushed a dull red. “Lying to protect her isn’t much better than the reason you married her.”

“How did you…?” He squinted at the man hard. “You had your ear to the door.”

Dawson shook his head. “I thought she was going to resign. Imagine my shock at your dishonorable suggestion that she pretend to be your lover. Can you blame me for worrying for her state of mind and what happens to her when it’s over?”

“No.” William grimaced. “That’s why I married her.”

Dawson scoffed. “You only married because the duke made you do it.”

William scowled at his valet, a man who’d been at his side through thick and thin, who acted as his conscience occasionally. He was annoyed with him until he registered what the man had said to justify his eavesdropping. “Why did you think Matilda was going to resign?”

“Someone had salted her tea that morning. It’s not the only problem she’s had with the other female staff I’ve since learned. They were making her situation unbearable. She was waiting for Harry Lloyd to marry her. To save her. She got dragged into your scheme instead.”

William swore.

“She doesn’t deserve to have her reputation dragged through the mud.”

“Trust me. This arrangement benefits her, and I will make sure she is never troubled again.” He had no doubt about that, but he wished he’d known the extent of her problems here. He had already set aside the funds she required and had inspected a residence, a neat and vacant town house a few blocks away, that should suit her very well. It was in a good part of town, close to the park and with decent neighbors. She would be very comfortable there, and he could also keep a discreet eye on her future affairs.

“How could divorcing or having the marriage annulled be desirable? You know that she will be labeled by society. That sort of scandal will never go away.”

William hated being questioned. He pinched the bridge of his nose to rein in his temper. “You will trust me on this. I know what I’m doing.”

“You had better hope so.” Dawson’s expression grew mulish. “After all she did to save you, it had better have been worth her while.”

“It will be.” William turned away. Dawson obviously felt protective of Matilda, and he approved of that to a degree. He had once suspected that Dawson had romantic feelings for Matilda. That he hadn’t acted upon them, not even to kiss her, spoke of a very platonic friendship.

His Matilda was never free with her affections. She might have considered marriage to Harry Lloyd, but she was as pure as the driven snow if his was the first kiss she’d ever received.